


Post-War Blues

by toomuchplor



Series: Eamespreg [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the table between them there are two cups: one coffee, one tea. There's a balled-up soggy tissue.  And there's this plastic stick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-War Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place when Lucas is about 16 months and Bert is two and a half. 
> 
> Click to end notes for an explanation of the tags if you wish.

"You're a psychologist," says Arthur. 

"You're an arsehole," says Eames. At Arthur's dark look, he adds, "Sorry, are we not stating obvious things?"

"I'm just saying," Arthur says, "I'm constantly surprised by your lack of introspection, given that you're basically a professional busybody." He fidgets briefly with his cup of coffee, resettling himself in the dining chair.

"Yes. Well," says Eames, "and the cobbler's children run unshod, et cetera." He gives his tea one last stir, taps the spoon on the lip of the mug. It’s herbal tea. The very idea depresses him.

"So," Arthur says, and blows out a breath of air. It's not the heavy sigh of one reluctant to speak; rather, it's the hesitant noise of one trying to find the right words. "So, you don't have to go through with it."

"Christ," says Eames, looking up at Arthur, a little appalled. 

"Tristan, you're the one who _just admitted_ that you subconsciously waited until I was out with the kids before you took the test, because you knew on some level that it was going to be positive, and that you were going to —" here Arthur waves a hand at Eames, having difficulty. "You know. Have emotions. About it."

"You needn't be so delicate," Eames tells him. "It's not like I'm not sat here with red eyes and a runny nose and a hanky in my fist."

"So," Arthur says again, "so?"

Eames sighs and reaches out a finger, flicks the plastic test stick sitting on the table between them. It twirls on axis like the spinner in a board game and comes to rest with its two pink lines pointing Arthur's way. It looks more accusatory than Eames likes; it's not like there weren't two of them that night on holiday, and furthermore Arthur wasn’t the one who bollocksed up Eames’ pill count. "So — speaking as a psychologist, I’ve got a touch of oppositional defiance disorder. I think maybe I’ve spent so long indulging it, arguing with you over having a third, that I never properly paused to think about whether I even wanted one myself. I was just so sure you wouldn’t give in, anyway. I suppose…well, that’s why I never properly gave myself space to process everything after Lucas."

"You're an asshole," says Arthur, grinning ever so slightly. At Eames' wounded look, he says simply, "Obvious things?"

Eames cedes the point with a wobbly smirk, plunges on before he loses his nerve. "It was," he says, “ _hard_ , with Lucas. God knows I love the beggar but, Arthur, he wrecked me. It was months before I felt properly myself again, and parts of me will literally never be the same."

Arthur spares Eames the _well, duh_ that's written all over his face. 

"I've just got used to sleeping again," Eames goes on, "and back to work, and coming into a sort of routine with the boys now Bert's starting preschool in the fall.”

Arthur's hand comes over and covers Eames' own, squeezes. He doesn't need to repeat himself. 

Eames knows. 

"I'd love a third," says Eames. "I just — hadn't reckoned on having another after Lucas.”

They let the silence gather for a while. Eames chews the inside of his cheek and considers pressing Arthur for his honest, level-headed, bloody-minded point man's opinion. Arthur would give it, he knows, if Eames asked. Eames also knows that he might not like what Arthur has to say, and he hardly knows if Arthur could say _anything_ right now that wouldn't break one part of Eames' heart or another. 

"What do you need," says Arthur at last. 

"Not to decide anything," says Eames, thinking it over, "for one week."

"Okay," says Arthur with a curt nod, ever the calm professional, even with Eames' peed-on pregnancy test between them. 

"Go on, then," Eames tells him, because they've been together too long and Arthur's not fooling him for a second. "Get it over with, you horrible twat."

Arthur's mouth twitches twice before he breaks. "I fucking told you so," he crows, pulling his hand away and using it to point obnoxiously at Eames. "I knew you were knocked up, I knew it!"

"I do love your pettiness," Eames tells him thoughtfully. "It's terribly attractive and not at all the worst thing about you."

"Falling asleep in the middle of the new Star Trek," says Arthur, "and trying to tell me you were just enjoying the soundtrack with your eyes closed. For a forger you're such a shitty liar, jesus."

Eames reaches out and grabs Arthur's hand back, squeezes it harder than necessary. "Okay," he says.

"Okay?" Arthur repeats, thrown.

"Okay, okay," Eames says. "Okay."

"What happened to needing a week to decide?" Arthur asks, nervous abruptly. 

Eames curves his mouth. "Suddenly I realized I'd be mad not to want another of your little bastards around."

"I've offered to marry you, like, four million times—" Arthur starts, but Eames cuts him off with a kiss, and another, and another. "Mm, but hey, who's counting."

"You are," Eames says. "You're always keeping score."

Arthur bursts into a delightful wild grin, suddenly, and glides his hand down Eames' chest, does a little anticipatory groping. "I'm glad," he says, simply. "I didn't expect to be, but I am."

"Three is definitely enough," Eames says. "Three sounds — just right."

**Author's Note:**

> There is a very oblique reference by Arthur to the possibility that Eames have an abortion. The idea isn't discussed much beyond that.


End file.
